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Specify colo(' mmJél :Send to.I*PEmRGUN i;lOX 541".N _ <>... NANTUCKET: < '02554 . OR OO-l. '.,: ..... '., ." . 'þ ....... ..:-..... ... ......... .f ...... ..,......:. .r.', .., . ...... ........:.. . TOLL. :: .1408.Ø34-8881' VISAII f. . I. A 1- I; ..;2. ,-6233. IMMEDIATE SHIP EIT. IN SAN FRANCISCO WINTER SPECIAL - December - February Just 2 blocks west of Union Square. Complimentary :..-..j Continental I il EJ Breakfast. Home ì:T - of the highly ac- - --: claimed Post St. r- , ,. þ Bar & Cafe. ; 'I. . I \"" -1, , $76-$98 '--- i THE ANDREWS HOTEL 624 Post Street, San Francisco, CA 94109 - Call for Brochure - (800) 227-4742 (415) 563-6877 In California: (800) 622-0557 quent arrival was "very quick, too quick," Smith told me. "They didn't want witnesses, you see." The plan seemed to be to remove most of the bodies immediately, leaving just a few, "to make people believe only this happened" -that is, to lessen the scale of the massacre. The bodies would be whisked away and would disappear into a secret grave. The Ruelle Vaillant would be a massacre but, at least for the world press, a small one-four or five people, per haps. Smith and others, however, chanced to be nearby. Moving from room to room, they saw about twenty people, shot to pieces. In one classroom, in particular, Smith said, "the people had huddled around the wall, and in two other classrooms there were people un- derneath the benches. They'd heard shooting in the street, they'd run in here thinking it was safe. But because they were allli terall y around the wall, it was just a simple matter of spraying them with gunfire. The two women who had been running the elections were the persons with their faces shot half off, lying there with the pamphlets and everything allover the floor. In the room with the most people, about ten, there was one woman screaming in the corner, and another woman over near the far wall was just... shaking around. And as the soldiers moved from room to room they found more people stil1 alive, who were pretty well buried under the school desks and the bodies, still lying there in the pools of blood. "There was such an ambience of palpable evil and cold, cold fear. I mean, the poor people who'd somehow survived were there screaming simply out of a state of absolute shock. I'm talking about people who were stood in front of a wall and were sprayed with bullets, and were then lying in a mass of bodies That fear pervad- ed the whole area-an extremely strong ambience, as if an evil plague had swept through, like a wind or something. " By this time, with the camera crews and photographers arriving, the ambu- lances, packed to capacity with corpses and a few survivors, drove off, and the soldiers left. As the journalists stood amid the remaining bodies, a green Volvo station wagon pulled up, and four men got out and started shooting. The journalists fled toward the school, NOVEMBER. 27, 1989 retracing the bloody path taken by the voters less than half an hour before, then struggled in terror to scale the walls behind the school. The Macoutes moved forward, firing steadily. Smith was shot in the leg. Three members of an ABC News crew were wounded. A Dominican cameraman, just getting out of his car, raised his hands in bewildered surrender and was shot at point-blank range, collapsing and then (as one fleeing witness, looking back over his shoulder, glimpsed him) "literally swimming, hand over hand, in a lake of blood, groaning, 'Help me, help me.' " He died later in the hos- pital. A photographer, J ean- Bernard Diederich, who was scrambling over a high wall, looked back and saw a man taking aim. "I couldn't see his face," he said, "but it was definite- ly a soldier." Several witnesses later claimed to have recognized the olive- green-clad troops of the Dessalines Battalion. B y midmorning, Port-au-Prince, with its almost one million inhab- itants, had taken on the uniquely sinis- ter aspect of a great metropolis that stands unaccountably deserted under a shadowless light. Only in front of the cathedral was there a human presence: a young man lying in a little pool of blood, staring up at the bright sun. Arms splayed, shirt torn, this peaceful, sun-warmed corpse had seemingly be- come the capital's sole resident. His living compatriots, having been transported with awful abruptness back to a time that many of them remem- bered all too well, cowered indoors. Hiding as well were the members of the Electoral Council, including its presi- dent, Ernst Mirville, who, shortly af- ter the Ruelle Vaillant massacre, had telephoned Radio Métropole from an undisclosed location to announce that the elections had been postponed "to a later date." For Haitians, the limits to wholesale brutality-the unflinching daylight massacre of innocents-that had been drawn since the fall of Duvalier had in a few minutes been swept away. The streets of the capital empty at midday, the sirens wailing, the corpses of men, women, and children lying in pools of blood, all the taut aftermath of a con- vulsion of unbridled violence-" All this brings back Duvalier, the father, I mean," a well-to-do woman told me